Professor MacHugh moved to consider the motion that the troop of bare feet heard rushing along the hallway and pattering up the staircase be dubbed oratory. The motion carried. Aye: Burke, Crawford, Dedalus, Lenehan, MacHugh, O’Molloy.

Stephen Dedalus moved to adjourn.

O’Madden Burke raised a point of information: Is it not perchance a French compliment?

O’Madden Burke moved to amend the motion to indicate an immediate change of venue and that said change include the adoption of a wine jug in Ye ancient hostelry metaphorically speaking.

Matt Lenehan moved to amend the motion to indicate the meeting venue be changed to Mooney’s.

Matt Lenehan raised a point of information: Will we sternly refuse to partake of strong waters?

Matt Lenehan moved to amend the motion to indicate that the committee will not drink any more.

Matt Lenehan moved to amend the motion to indicate that the committee will not drink any less.

Miles Crawford moved to amend the motion to indicate that Stephen Dedalus is a chip off the old block.

Miles Crawford raised a point of information: Where are his blasted keys?

Unfinished Business: The publication of crushed typesheets, location: Crawford’s pocket, regarding Deasy letter, topic: foot and mouth disease. The pending meeting of a committee formed by O’Molloy to include Crawford concerning a point of information (financial).

Show us a minute. Bantom Lyons materiallized as if from nowhere and said this with his hand. Show us a minute. I gave him my newspaper. Tried anyway, to get rid of him. Show us a minute? Look at the sun, it moves by its own radius every minute. That’s if you can see the sun which we cannot. Not in this town. There’s no telling a minute under these clouds. And you shouldn’t look directly into the sun. Maximum the second. That’s what Bantom Lyons’ yellow blacknailed fingers said next. I suppose the inability to see a minute would maximize the second. Stretch the moment; make it plastic. It’s what we have to work with. Can’t add anything to it. Better to think of the second instead of the minute. Lyons has some bad dandruff. His head just under my nose. He is Irish. Decended from the lost tribe that never went back. Going to throwaway his money on a horse race. I must have said something because he suddenly looked at me, said he’d risk it, and took off toward Conway’s. God speed and get the fuck out.